Feel your Heartbeat
by pfirsichkind
Summary: Seven drabbles about the Eurovision Song Contest. :D  Germany/Italy, Spain/Romano, Prussia, Hungary, Austria, France


_**Before we start- LENA! DU WARST TROTZDEM DIE BESTE VON ALLEN!**_

**F****eel your Heartbeat **

The preview for Spain started and a little child appeared on the screen. The voice of the moderator rang through the room: "Ahi viene Antonio de España!*" Spain couldn't hold back his loud cry of joy.

"Antonio, his name is Antonio! Awww, Lovi, isn't he cute! Look at him, look at him, que lindo~!"

"Oh, yeah, totally cute, idiot." Annoyed by the other's actions, Romano rolled his eyes and tried to gain some space between him and the Spaniard, before he would feel the sudden urge to share his love with somebody. Fortunately, at the moment he seemed satisfied with making several sighing noises as soon as the camera focused on Antonio's face. When the boy lifted his shirt up to reveal Spanish words and read them out loud with his childish voice, Spain snapped. Squealing, he wrapped his arms around Romano, who desperately tried to shove off the melted heap of admiration.

"Sooo cute!"

"Bastard. He looks just as stupid as you!"

But then the Spaniard turned his green eyes towards him and pouted – like a little child – and Romano couldn't do anything against the little smile that wormed its way up his features.

"Well, at least he's better at football than you."

* Here comes Antonio from Spain

* * *

><p>The whole European continent stared at the screen, paralyzed, watching the Russian performance. The beat flowed through the air and again the Russian guy took the microphone, winking at the camera.<p>

_I'm coming to get you! _

"He… he isn't serious about that, is he?"

"I like, totally hope not."

And in the next moment, several phones vibrated.

_Secret meeting tomorrow. We have to have a dialogue about rearmament. _

* * *

><p>"Oh, Ludwig, Ludwig, it's Italy's vote now!"<p>

Excited, Italy bounced up and down on his cushion, while Germany's eyes stayed focused on the half-eaten plate of pasta, placed on the other's lap, which was dangerously close falling off. "Y-yeah, I can see that…"

"I'm sure you'll get 12 points from us! Ich liebe Lena~*"

He went back to just snuggling with Germany, who nervously scratched the back of his head. Then the votes appeared. Very disappointed, the Italian stared at the TV from which the voice of the moderator said: "6 Punkte für Deutschland.**"

The latter shrugged, more or less concerned and jumped slightly when his phone vibrated. Half awaiting a message from his brother, he opened his incoming mails.

"HAHA SUCK THAT POTATO BASTARD! I WOULD NEVER VOTE FOR YOU!"

Struggling with a smile, Germany watched the other. "Seems like you forgot your other half."

* I love Lena

** 6 points for Germany

* * *

><p>East stared at the screen. Next to him, Hungary had difficulties hiding her laughter and Austria wore a small smile.<p>

"I feel honoured, Gilbert. 12 points from Germany."

"Th-those weren't from me, ok? Your performance sucked!"

At those words, the albino's face went bright red and Hungary started howling with laughter.

* * *

><p>"Et douze points pour… ÉSPAGNE!*"<p>

Almost at the same moment, Francis phone ringed. Smiling contently, he picked up. "Bonsoir, mon ami.**"

"Francis! Gracias! Thank you!"

To be on the safe side, he kept the phone on distance, worrying if another tearful cry of the Spaniard followed.

"Pas de problèmes, Antonio***." He sipped his wine and followed the voting of the next country, just as Spain prepared for another gush of thanks. He didn't really get the chance anyway, because the next second France listened to scraps of Italian insults, followed by a click and the characteristic tuuuut tuuuut at the other end of the line.

His smirk grew bigger and he filled himself another glass.

* 12 points for Spain

** Good evening, my friend

*** no problem / you're welcome

* * *

><p>"And 12 points go to… ITALY!"<p>

Romano groaned loudly – the joy about those points stayed marred since he knew of the consequences. Spain stared at the TV, then turned towards the South Italian, who had already buried his face in his hands.

"There! There, did you see! 12 points! I gave you 12 points!"

"Yeah, bastard. I'm neither blind nor deaf."

"That obviously shows my never-ending love for you~ Te quierooo, Loviiii!"

And again – he couldn't count them anymore – he happened to have a handful of Spain in his arms.

* * *

><p>Silently Germany gathered the dishes and started tidying up while Azerbaijan was celebrating in the arena in Düsseldorf. Italy hugged him briefly and planted a kiss on his cheek.<p>

"Ve, don't be sad, Ludwig! Lena was really good!"

Germany nodded, small smile on his lips. He had suffered 28 years of defeat- he wouldn't get harmed by another one that easily. "Congratulations to second place, Feliciano."

Italy's thanks were cut off by his phone. Cheerfully he picked up: "Fratello, we are second place!"

The answer happened to be less happy.

"SECOND PLACE, IDIOT! TELL YOUR FUCKING BOYFRIEND HE SHOULD HAVE VOTED FOR US, BECAUSE MY BOYFRIEND DID OK? SECOND PLACE DAMMIT, I'M ALWAYS FUCKING SECOND PLACE!"


End file.
